


Remembrance

by Sheska



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Loss, M/M, Memories, Sad, Sweet, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:03:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheska/pseuds/Sheska
Summary: He has his memories. Only his memories. They are not enough. They will never be enough. Yet he will treasure them, despite the pain, despite it all tearing him apart every day. Because without his memories, there would be nothing left of the one he loved.





	Remembrance

Connor is burying his face in his hands, eyes closed tightly.

 

He accesses his memories, this loop he has created in his mind, different scenes from different occasions playing in his head like a movie.

 

He lets out a breath and sinks into his past, clinging to it with all his might.

 

 

**2039-02-06 Sunday, 08:51 p.m.**

 

_It’s a slow Sunday evening. Hank is at home, taking care of Sumo._

 

_The station is largely deserted, with patrol officers out on their rounds; and the few people doing overtime to catch up on their cases or their paperwork are slowly trickling out one by one._

 

_Connor is busy updating Hank’s case files, now that he is officially his partner, digitizing the paper trail, adding information, and cleaning up the clutter of notes and memos and partly finished reports._

 

_When he looks up, he notices everyone else is gone already. Well, almost everyone._

 

_His gaze falls on Detective Reed, slumped over at his desk across from Connor’s own, fast asleep._

 

_There are bags under his eyes and the stubble on his face suggests that he hasn’t been home for at least a day. He is always pushing himself, Connor knows, clinging to his work, his career like a lifeline. Like he has nothing else._

 

_It is worrying. Somewhat sad. And none of his business. What Detective Reed does with his life is his decision._

 

_Connor wants to turn away and ignore his coworker, who has been nothing but cold towards him since he joined the police force, when he notices that Detective Reed is shivering._

 

_A scan confirms that his body temperature is low, most likely due to the office being heated insufficiently. The heating unit is acting up again._

 

_With a sigh, Connor stands up, intent on waking the Detective and asking him to go home. He stops when he notices just how exhausted the man looks up close._

_There are tension lines around his mouth and sunken eyes, traces of sweat on his forehead, despite the coldness of the room. Even when asleep, his brows are furrowed. Doesn't he ever let his guard down?_

 

_For some reason, it feels wrong to just wake him, so Connor looks around, spotting the Detective’s leather jacket on the ground._

 

_It’s not ideal, but it would do for the moment._

 

_Slowly, gently, as to not wake him by accident, Connor drapes the jacket over Gavin’s shoulders, watching in fascination as he stirs ever so slightly before his face relaxes a tiny bit._

 

_He returns to his desk hesitantly, sneaking glances at the Detective. When Gavin wakes up half an hour later, he looks around questioningly, his hands touching the jacket still draped around him. His eyes find Connor’s, confusion replaced by a dawning realization._

 

_He doesn’t speak and neither does Connor. Still, something changes in that moment, something so subtle, neither of them really takes notice, not yet._

 

 

**2039-06-02 Thursday, 02:43 a.m.**

 

_Gavin is smiling._

 

_To be fair, it is more of a grin he fails to suppress at Connor’s remark, something about how he must be spending too much time with Hank, because the entrance to the night club they are staking out is starting to look like a donut to him._

 

_Why this moment is so significant to him, he isn’t quite sure. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Gavin smile before._

_Only on those occasions, it has always been fake, sarcastic even._

 

_It isn’t now. Now, he is biting his lip in a vain attempt at returning to a neutral expression._

 

_Maybe it’s the exhaustion of being stuck in a car for hours, in the dead of night, surrounded by muffled music and neon lights, but for some reason, Gavin is less tense around him than ever before; even with them slowly getting used to each other over the past four months, he has always been on edge around Connor._

 

_There is none of that tension now. He’s leaning back in his seat, face relaxed, eyes shimmering in the soft, colorful glow of the signs outside the car window._

 

_Connor finds himself captivated by the sight before him, taking in the small details of Gavin's face, the way his eyelashes leave faint shadows on his cheeks at this angle. His gaze follows the line of his scar before drifting down, settling on the curve of his lips._

 

_Gavin catches him staring and frowns, sitting up straight again, and the moment is over._

 

“ _What? Is there something on my face, dipshit?”_

 

“ _No,” Connor says, smiling to himself. “Nothing.”_

 

 

**2039-08-29 Monday, 09:34 a.m.**

 

“ _Jeez, what happened? You are not even fun to insult anymore.”_

 

_Gavin is leaning against the counter in the break room, rolling his eyes in an exasperated manner._

 

“ _Since when is grinning like an idiot the appropriate response to being called a plastic prick?”_

 

“ _Since you stopped saying it like you mean it,” Connor states simply, not bothering to hide another grin._

 

_He has come to enjoy Detective Reed’s company. He doesn’t know how or why or when, but gradually, their mutual dislike for each other and Gavin’s honest animosity against him have disappeared. Their relationship has changed from tolerating each other to a sort of friendship._

 

_At least Connor thinks that’s what this is. They are friends, and that’s why Gavin is almost always on his mind, right?_

 

_Whatever it is, it is not simply quiet and kind, even though they have those moments as well. They are still bickering and arguing most of the time, but without any of the anger or bitterness that used to be there between them._

 

_Even Hank noticed Gavin mellowing out around Connor, suggesting that there might be something to Connor’s advanced programming and ‘working harmoniously with humans’ after all._

_Connor suspects that Hank is actually starting to like Gavin – not that he would ever admit to doing so._

 

_Gavin lets out one of his short, low laughs – a sound Connor has grown to ~~love~~  like._

 

“ _You are weird.”_

 

“ _That makes two of us, then.”_

 

“ _Little shit.”_

 

“ _What, not a plastic shit? Should I feel honored by that development?”_

 

_Groaning, Gavin shakes his head._

 

“ _I fucking hate you, you know that?”_

 

_Connor cocks his head to the side, making a humming noise while stepping closer to Gavin._

 

“ _I don’t think you hate me.”_

 

_Another step._

 

“ _I do, I really do!” Gavin insists, running a hand over his mouth to hide the hint of a smile. “You are an unbearable prick.”_

 

_Connor takes a final step. He is looming over Gavin now, smirking, using his height to his advantage to make the other man back up against the counter. He wants to tease him a little, get a reaction out of him._

 

“ _No, I’m pretty sure you’ve stopped hating me a long time ago,” he says, leaning forward so his face is directly beside Gavin’s own. “After all, nicknames are a sign of affection.”_

 

_He is so close, he can feel a shudder running through Gavin’s body and the heat radiating off of him._

 

_He blinks and all of a sudden, he is hyper aware of where their bodies are touching._

 

_It is confusing, disorienting. His heart is beating faster, despite him barely moving. Is it harder to breathe?_

 

_Connor wants to back away, yet at the same time, he doesn’t._

 

_He can sense Gavin tensing up against him. There's a tremor in his hands as he places them on Connor’s chest._

 

_At first, he thinks Gavin wants to push him away, but he's wrong about that. Gavin doesn’t move a muscle, his hands lingering on Connor’s body, their heat creeping into his artificial flesh._

 

“ _Connor … What are we doing?”_

 

_Gavin sounds breathless; something about his tone is sending shivers down Connor’s spine._

 

“ _I don’t know. I -”_

 

_Hank’s booming voice pulls him back to reality._

 

“ _Has anyone seen Reed or Connor?”_

 

_They separate in the fracture of a second, suddenly at the opposite ends of the room, refusing to even look at each other._

 

“ _I … I’ll see you later,” Gavin mumbles, rushing past him towards the restroom._

 

_Connor catches a glimpse of red cheeks and even redder ears._

 

_He’s sure, if he could blush, he wouldn’t be any better off._

 

 

**2039-09-17 Friday, 07:15 p.m.**

 

“ _What the fuck were you thinking?”_

 

_Connor blinks, but the error messages just won’t go away. Red alerts are flashing all over his vision. He has taken quite a bit of damage, apparently._

 

_He can barely make out Detective Reed’s face behind the haze of red. He looks terrified. Guilty._

 

“ _I had to make a choice,” Connor says, glad his voice box is unaffected by the impact. “I wasn’t quite close enough to you to get us both out of the way of the vehicle in time. So I bargained on my higher chances of survival.”_

 

_Gavin lets out a strangled sound at that, shaking his head._

 

“ _What the hell? You jumped in front of a car because of fucking statistics?”_

 

“ _Your chances of survival, given your position and the speed of the car, were around 23%. My own after pushing you out of the way were at 54%. It seemed like the correct course of action.”_

 

_The error messages are slowly subsiding now, some of his systems are already repairing themselves. He will still need to replace some of his bio-components soon, but he is not in critical condition._

 

_He blinks and notices Gavin staring at him in utter disbelief, a flicker of something Connor can’t read crossing his face._

 

“ _I don’t regret what I did,” Connor states, struggling to push himself into a sitting position to find Gavin reaching out to aid him, holding him upright when he can’t keep his balance on his own. ”I’m only sorry I let the suspects get away.”_

 

_He doesn’t expect to be hit over the head briefly at his statement, causing him to look up at a very angry Gavin in confusion._

 

_What he expects even less is the feeling of arms around him, pulling him in for a forceful hug. Yet that is exactly what is happening now._

 

“ _You stupid, reckless robot idiot,” Gavin mumbles next to his ear. “Don’t you dare do that again.”_

 

“ _Technically, I am an android, not a robot,” Connor says softly, a smile in his voice. He pauses for a moment. “And I can’t promise that. Like I said, I don’t regret doing it.”_

 

_He would do it again in a heartbeat, even if Gavin’s chances of survival were higher than his own. But he doesn’t say that out loud._

 

_Gavin lets out a sigh, his hands gripping the back of Connor’s shirt, undeterred by the Thirium that is leaking from a wound on his shoulder, soaking the fabric._

 

“ _Shut up.”_

 

_They are so close, Connor can smell Gavin’s aftershave, feel the heat of his body, the racing heartbeat against his chest._

 

_He can also feel some of his damaged parts shifting uncomfortably as he’s being held a bit too tightly. He finds he doesn’t mind one bit._

 

 

**2039-10-06 Thursday, 11:54 p.m.**

 

“ _It’s way too cold for October,” Gavin grumbles, rubbing his hands together to get the blood circulating._

 

_Connor moves a little closer to him, wordlessly, hoping to shield him from the harsh autumn winds._

 

_Sometimes, he regrets being a machine; his temperature is generally lower than a human’s, meaning that sharing warmth has very little effect, if any at all._

 

_Still, there is this urge inside of him to put his arm around Gavin’s shoulder and pull him closer._

 

_Ever since the incident in the break room, there has been this kind of longing – to be around Gavin, to touch him, connect with him._

 

_And since the close call with the car, he has the impression Gavin is feeling it as well._

 

_They often find themselves sharing smiles and brief touches, brushing against each other when talking, as if by accident._

 

_It has taken a while for Connor to understand this shapeless emotion inside of him, this ever-changing presence, soft warmth and intense heat, soothing him and making him restless, something very close to both happiness and despair, yet entirely different._

 

_And then, one evening, watching a black and white movie in Hank’s living room, something ‘sappy and romantic’, as Hank described it, everything clicked._

 

_He is infatuated with Gavin Reed._

 

_And he has no idea what to do about it._

 

_He wants to bring it up, address his emotions, but it never feels like the right moment to just say something; certainly not for a lack of opportunity. They are spending a lot more time together, at work and even afterward on some occasions, like right now._

 

_Taking walks along the river at odd hours has become something of a routine for them, no matter the weather, be it rain or hail or sweltering heat._

 

_Connor especially loves the night time, the soft glow of the streetlights and the dark, glittering waters below._

_Often, they don’t see a single soul, like the world only belongs to the both of them in those fleeting moments._

 

_He brushes his hand against the pocket of his coat, feeling the outline of a small package and a lighter, and smiles._

 

“ _What are you looking so happy about?” Gavin asks._

 

_Connor only smiles wider._

 

“ _You’ll see.”_

 

“ _Oh, cryptic.” Gavin laughs quietly, his breath forming tiny clouds in the freezing October air. It really is too cold for this time of year. ”Should I be worried, metal man?”_

 

“ _Depends.”_

 

_Shaking his head fondly, Gavin speeds up a little, as they are nearing the bench. Their bench. They found it on their last walk together, during the daytime, beneath a red oak tree with leaves like fire._

_A stunningly beautiful sight, almost as stunning as Gavin’s smile as he stood beneath it, captivated._

 

_Connor falls behind a little, taking the box and the lighter out of his pocket. His internal clock is reading midnight now._

 

_He lights the sparklers quickly, the sound and shine drawing Gavin’s attention._

 

_He turns around, staring in wonder and disbelief._

 

“ _Connor, what -”_

 

_Connor just grins, handing one of the sparklers to Gavin, watching the golden shimmer dance across his skin, his eyes reflecting the sparks like stars._

 

_It is mesmerizing._

 

_They are silent until the last glimmer burns out, too caught up in the moment to even breathe._

 

_It is Connor who finds his voice first._

 

“ _Happy birthday, Gavin,” he says, softly._

 

_Gavin looks at him like only just remembered that yes, it is indeed his birthday today._

 

“ _You didn’t have to do that.”_

 

“ _I wanted to,” Connor replies, his eyes never once leaving Gavin’s own. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I decided to do this for you instead. And I wanted to ask you if there is anything at all that you wish for.”_

 

_Hearing those words, Gavin takes a shaky breath, his cheeks, already flushed from the cold and the excitement, are turning a deeper shade of red._

 

“ _I – What kind of a question is this? Jeez. What do you expect me to say?”_

 

“ _The truth,” Connor says, closing the distance between them with a single step. “Or, if you want, I can tell you what I wish for.”_

 

_Connor can hear Gavin swallowing, like his throat is suddenly dry. And he knows Gavin's heart is beating faster and faster still. He feels like his own heart will either jump out of his chest or stop beating altogether._

 

“ _What – what do you want?” Gavin finally asks, voice hoarse._

 

“ _I want to kiss you.”_

 

_His heart skips a beat as soon as those words are out._

 

_He expects Gavin to freak out, to move away, to tell him he has lost his mind. His thoughts are racing, yet oddly distant, hard to grasp._

 

 _What he doesn’t expect is for Gavin to pull him closer still, and for his mouth to find Connor’s, desperate and rough and soft and sweet and perfect in how absolutely imperfect it is, awkward movements and restless hands and trembling lips brushing against each other and_ everything _._

 

_As the kiss ends, they are both breathing hard. Connor feels he’s overheating, the cold night air long forgotten._

 

_Gavin’s eyes are glassed over and open wide, like he can’t believe what just happened._

 

“ _Holy shit,” he says, his fingertips tracing along his lower lip, drawing Connor’s gaze to them._

 

_And then he smiles, bashful and daring at the same time, and it is the most bewitching thing Connor has ever seen._

 

“ _I’d fucking love to do that again.”_

 

_So Connor puts his hands on Gavin’s neck, his thumbs trailing the outline of his jaw as he leans in, more than happy to comply._

 

 

**2039-11-22 Tuesday, 05:01 a.m.**

 

_It’s a quiet, early morning, thankfully. Barely anyone else is at the office right now._

 

_Connor is sitting in the waiting area on one of the couches, Gavin’s head in his lap. He is absentmindedly stroking his boyfriend’s soft, brown hair, enjoying the way it glides through his fingers as he reads the new files he has received earlier._

 

_He hears footsteps approaching and spots Hank, with his usual late night/early morning grumpiness written all over his face, a coffee in his hand, so tall it makes Connor worry about his caffeine intake. He doesn't address it, though, not after the night they had._

 

_Hank looks over at Connor and Gavin, his expression getting softer instantly._

 

“ _Hey there, lovebirds. I was wondering where you two went after finishing up the crime scene.”_

 

“ _No speaking, please,” Gavin mumbles, voice muffled by Connor’s shirt._

 

“ _Headache?” Hank asks, actually raising his voice a little, making Gavin wince._

 

_Connor shoots him a chiding glare, causing Hank to back off with a suppressed grin._

 

“ _Sorry, princess,” he says before he leaves._

 

“ _Fuck you! I said no speaking!”_

 

_Connor sighs, rubbing soothing circles on Gavin’s back. He loves him with all his flaws, even with his bad attitude and short temper._

 

_He hasn’t quite finished the thought before freezes, eyes wide._

 

_He loves him._

 

 _He_ loves _Gavin._

 

_When had his infatuation turned into something so gentle, so genuine?_

 

“ _You alright?” Gavin asks, sensing something off about Connor._

 

_The way he pays attention to him like this, despite his pain, makes Connor's heart flutter in his chest._

 

_He wants to tell Gavin, wants to shout his epiphany out into the world._

 

_But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to scare Gavin off, knowing full well that dealing with emotions isn’t his boyfriend’s strong suit._

 

_He also wants it to be special, just the two of them, with all the time in the world to take it all in. A perfect memory._

 

_So he just smiles at Gavin, lightly trailing along his cheek with his fingertips._

 

“ _I’m more than alright.”_

 

 

**2039-12-30 Friday, 03:14 p.m.**

 

_Connor is on his way back from an extended break, giddy and excited._

 

_He feels the weight of the little box in his pocket. A present for Gavin, custom made._

_Two pairs of silver dogtags, one for each of them, engraved with the initials of their first names, along with all the dates of the most significant moments Connor has saved onto a memory file in his head._

_A compilation of the both of them, starting with the first time he ever showed Gavin kindness by draping his jacket over him and ending with the morning Connor realized his true feelings._

 

_There is also another date on the tags. Tomorrow. The end of the year. He is going to tell Gavin that he loves him as they stand next to the river, waiting for the fireworks to start. At least that’s the plan so far. Maybe they’ll do something entirely different. Either way, Connor is set on revealing his true feelings._

 

_Gavin should be back at the office by now, so they can plan ahead for tomorrow._

 

_As he steps into the precinct, he knows something is off right away. It is eerily silent, safe for a few hushed conversations that stop immediately when his colleagues notice him._

 

_The Thirium in his veins turns to ice as he looks around frantically, relieved for a moment when he spots Hank amidst the other officers – until their eyes meet._

 

_Hank’s gaze is empty in a way Connor recognizes from the countless nights spent talking about loss and death, about Cole._

 

_Grief._

 

_No._

 

_He knows what is happening before he sees Fowler making his way over to him, with a face so tense it looks like it is made of stone._

 

“ _Connor,” he says, voice soft and full of sympathy. Connor can’t stand it. “It’s about Gavin.”_

 

_No._

 

_He hears the words but they don’t make sense to him. Something about a standard assignment going wrong. A drive-by. A bullet to the head._

 

_His world is spiraling out of control._

 

_Nothing makes sense anymore._

 

_Yet he finds himself nodding, both numb and torn apart on the inside. He doesn’t know what to think or feel._

 

_He notices the silence after a while, realizing that Fowler has stopped talking by now._

 

“ _Please excuse me for a moment,” he says quietly, stalking off in the direction of the exit. He barely makes it past the door before his legs give out beneath him._

 

_He wants to scream and cry and set the entire world aflame, but his body won’t move, his tears won’t fall, his mouth won’t open._

 

_Gavin is gone._

 

 _Gavin is_ gone _._

 

_He is paralyzed, trapped inside himself. Until he feels Hank kneeling down next to him, pulling him into a tight embrace._

 

_And finally, finally the dam breaks. Connor finds himself crying in his father's arms, outright sobbing, not caring about who might see or hear him._

 

_Gavin is gone. What does anything matter anymore?_

 

_The dogtags are heavy in his pocket. The date that will never come, the memory that won't ever happen burning through the fabric and into his skin._

 

“ _He’s dead,” he whimpers, burying his face in Hank’s jacket._

 

_He would never get to tell Gavin how much he loves him._

 

“ _I know, son. I know. I’m sorry.”_

 

 

**2040-01-11 Wednesday, 10:35 a.m.**

 

_Connor forces himself to watch as the casket is lowered into the ground. He commits it to memory, every second of it, knowing that Gavin's body is inside, cold and lifeless, left to rot._

 

_Gone are his smile and his warmth and the way he said Connor's name in those nights spent together at the edge of the river, like a spell that would bind them together forever._

 

_The dogtags are heavy in his pocket. He wanted to bury them with the one he loved, but standing here, staring at this hole in the ground, if doesn't seem right._

 

_Gavin is right there, barely five feet from him. And yet he isn't. He feels farther away than ever, only his shell is left._

 

_Not once during the service does Connor cry. He is numb to it all, barely registering there are other people around him._

_His hands are desperately gripping his own pair of dogtags around his neck, fingers tracing along their initials, along the dates engraved into the silver. Lingering on the date that never would be._

 

 

Connor opens his eyes and finds there are tears on his cheeks, cold as ice in the freezing night air.

 

The river is a stream of smooth, black silk in front of him, moonlight glittering on the soft waves. He can feel the weight of the dogtags in his hands, getting heavier as he stands up from the bench. Their bench.

 

He lights a sparkler, watching the soft golden glow until it flickers out. The beauty of it feels distant to him, but it's still there. The world is still spinning, even though he has lost everything.

 

Or, no, not everything.

 

He has his memories. Only his memories. They are not enough. They will never be enough.

Yet he will treasure them, despite the pain, despite it all tearing him apart every day.

Because without his memories, there would be nothing left of the one he loved.

 

Connor takes a deep breath before he raises his arm, flinging the dogtags, Gavin's dogtags, into the darkness. The silver catches the moonlight one last time before it lands in the river with a faint splashing sound.

 

He almost smiles again as he turns away from the water, in spite of the emptiness and the heartache, memories of lost days on his mind.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry. I am a terrible, terrible human being. Excuse me while I go and cry myself to sleep.


End file.
